Instinctive drones, these men you have lured on,
That sipped your beauty like a bitter wine.
And now when tender arms no more entwine,
Are you the one that whispers, "now, be gone?"
So what of this debris your love has wrought
That clutters pathways that the brave have trod?
Is now your beck and call a calloused nod,
And is their anguished pleading all for naught?
In darkened shadows that your life has cast,
They gather there, those hurt and bleeding souls.
The conscience that you somehow cast aside
Devoured them, a dark and grim repast.
All those who played your conjured lover’s roles,
Those willful ones you’ve found you can’t abide.
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